


inescapable urge to run

by draculard



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Fight or Flight, Humor, M/M, Public Humiliation, Teacher-Student Relationship, Watersports, fear wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 13:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: It's just a demonstration. What could go wrong?
Relationships: John Kreese/Robby Keene
Kudos: 10





	inescapable urge to run

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr, I'm draculard there too

It wasn’t intentional — _obviously_. He’d arrived at the dojo late and barely had time to change into his gi before Kreese called everyone to the mat. There was no time to even put his duffel bag away, much less zip into the grimy one-toilet bathroom for a piss. And if Robby knew _anything_ , it was that interrupting Kreese to raise his hand and say he needed the bathroom was a sure-fire way to his ass handed to him by every ex-nerd chip-on-the-shoulder rage-machine in Cobra Kai.

So he didn’t raise his hand. He stood in formation with everyone else, at attention with his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes forward. He didn’t fidget; it wasn’t that bad, wasn’t emergency-level yet. He could at least hold it until practice was over. 

But of fucking _course_ , Kreese had to call him up for a demonstration.

“Get over here, Keene,” he barked. Robby hesitated, his face a cool mask as the other guys looked his way. He jogged up to the tatami mat, stood opposite Kreese there. “You and me are gonna show ‘em how to do a proper combo,” Kreese told him. He slipped into a ready position, waited for Robby to do the same.

Okay. That was fine. Robby could handle a little sparring. He slid one foot forward, raised his fists, took a deep breath. 

“Begin!” Kreese said.

He moved forward in a flurry, barreling down on Robby before he could decide on a course of action. His offensive plan became all defense, blocking and dodging as best he could.

Backfist, double step, reverse punch — easy. Kreese’s knuckles barely brushed against Robby’s cheek.

Then came the #2 round kick, the reverse hook kick, the reverse punch.

And Kreese feinted, and Robby didn’t see it coming.

Kreese’s fist drove into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He felt an ankle hook around the back of his knees, driving him to the floor. There was no let-up, no mercy — before he could catch his breath, Kreese was on him, pressing his face hard against the tatami mat and cinching Robby’s hands behind his back.

Defenseless. No way to fight, no way to run. Robby’s lungs stuttered, failing to take anything in, a roaring sound in his ears blocking everything out.

Except the sudden weakness in his limbs, involuntary and unstoppable, like some instinctive, animalistic part of him was telling him to stop fighting, to roll over and submit before it was too late. He felt a faint, hazy heat form over his cock, soaking into his boxers, realized too late that it was his bladder voiding.

The roaring sound in his ears faded just in time for him to hear the hiss of his own urine against the tatami mat. He felt Kreese’s grip shift, felt him pull away as he noticed it, too.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Kreese said.

Robby stayed on the ground, face-down, even as Kreese released him. He curled his hands into fists on the mat near his face, waiting for his strength to come back so he could push himself up. There was a low murmur through the crowd, everyone watching as he pissed himself, as the wet spot spread over the front of his karate gi and puddled on the mat.

“Christ’s _sake_ ,” said Kreese again, this time nudging Robby with his foot. “Get the hell up, Kenne, you’re making a mess.”

The low murmur turned into a chuckle. Face burning, Robby managed to push himself up off the mat just as Kreese bent forward and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him to his feet. He pushed Robby toward the locker room, and Robby barely got his feet underneath him in time to keep from falling. 

He pushed through the door, catching only a snippet of what Kreese said to the rest of the students — fight-or-flight, adrenaline, “in a war zone” — and stopped just inside the locker room, clutching himself through the soaked fabric of his karate gi. The urge to keep pissing was almost unstoppable now; he squeezed himself and walked forward as fast as he could, his steps halting and slow as he tried not to lose control more than he already had.

Everything fell apart when the door banged open a moment later and Kreese walked inside. Robby’s bladder twinged, a trickle of urine warming his hand through the fabric as he turned and looked at his sensei. 

“What the hell was that?” Kreese said.

Robby said nothing, his throat suddenly too tight to speak. He backed away by instinct as Kreese came forward, his body language almost predatory. Robby’s back hit the wall, the lockers rattling behind him as Kreese came closer, glowered down at him like Robby was some wayward soldier in need of discipline.

...Well, that was probably _exactly_ how Kreese saw it. His hand came up, fingers twisting in Robby’s hair and pulling him closer, until he could feel Kreese’s breath against his lips.

And Kreese’s hand between his legs, squeezing Robby’s cock through his wet robe. His thumb ran up the length of Robby’s cock and slid around the ridge of the head, the piss-soaked fabric rough against his skin. Robby’s breath hitched, another brief stream of urine forced out of him against his will as Kreese touched him — lightly, then roughly, eyes burning into Robby’s.

Robby’s eyes slid closed, his lips parting. He felt himself growing hard against his will, felt blood stinging in his cheeks again.

Felt Kreese leaning closer, palming his cock, torturing him, a moment before his lips pressed against Robby’s. He pulled away, took a breath, sunk his teeth into Robby’s neck where it was exposed by his robe.

“Fighting’s natural,” Kreese murmured, breath hot against Robby’s skin. Robby tipped his head back against the locker, his cock achingly hard, the friction of wet fabric driving him out of his mind. 

“I’ll show you what you should really be afraid of,” Kreese said.


End file.
